Eternity
by Dawn Uzumaki
Summary: Kaori's childhood friend wants her to stay with him until the hour of surgery. Does he have something to tell her? One-Shot. Complete. YukixKao


A/N: Hey, everyone! Sorry about the long wait! It's been two months, hasn't it… Well, this is my first try at one-shots, I really wasn't sure how to end it so I just did. =) Anyway, here it is, very short (approximately half the text _Confused_ has). _Confused_ is next! :3 This is the umm... random paragraphed one because a reviewer said the paragraphs were hard to read, so here it is! ^_^

* * *

"Hehe, yay!" I giggled in excitement. "We're here!" Looking up, I saw many trees, full of colorful, spring flowers. Floating down, a pink Sakura blossom landed lightly on my open palm and once again took flight as a careless breeze carried it off into the wind. The sweet scent of renewing life made me appalled at the beautiful sight of pink slowly moving away from my gaze.

Thrilled, I twirled around to look at the delicate, sapphire-haired boy who had invited me to join him in his last hours until the surgery to cure the state of his organs slowly failing. When he saw me he simply smiled, entertained.

"Ne, Yuki-chan, what are doing in a park?" I inquired him by the pet name I gave him. The teenaged boy did not answer quickly, but I was used to it for I had known Yukimura since we were young.

So instead of replying, he stiffly walked over to a wooden bench using his crutch; staying in a hospital bed for long periods of times made it hard for him to walk and I helped him sit. When he sat, the boards did not creak, leaving us in an awkward silence and I vaguely remembered some of his litheness gave him the name "God's Child."

After taking in what surrounded us, he distractedly gazed at the clouds, partially covered by the overhang of the Sakura trees. Though his eyes were there, his conscience was not and I knew he was distant, perhaps reminiscing our childhood days before death might toll on him, for the surgery only had a fifty percent chance of working.

The thought of him never being in the world anymore made my sight darken slightly, I felt my legs wobble. _Yukimura..._

Suddenly he awoke and whispered quietly, "Kao-chan, I…" he hesitated; gathering his wavering thoughts, the hour of the surgery was coming closer, _was he going to die? _He then looked at me, an amused look on his face, his eyes flickering with laugher, a smile tugging at his smooth lips. Chuckling daintily, he continued, "Come closer, and don't look so frightened, I won't hurt you."

While trying to adjust my features to something presentable, I made my way to the wooden structure; I was just thinking of the first day I met him. _How could something so agile, beautiful, yet delicate, live? How could it be possible? Why me? I wasn't worthy. _I pondered._ Is he human? _I then giggled airily at my strange thoughts and Yukimura craned his neck to look at my small structure, curious.

He gave me a questioning stare about my outburst but I promised him it was nothing to worry about by waving my petite hands in the air crazily, suggesting innocence. He then lightly pushed my hands down, a signal of understanding and grinned. "Can you do something for me?"

Instantly a million thoughts popped into my head, but the more important question was, '_Could I satisfy him?_' Shoving away all my questions about Yukimura bringing me to a secluded area, a park. _It wasn't as if he wanted just a walk, right?_

Shaking my head to rid my mind of untold wonders, I saw Yukimura patiently waiting for my answer, like an angel. A bit nervous about how much time I made him wait, I smiled contently, "Sure!"

A smirk then appeared on his lovely face. "Perfect." Was all he said before he scooped me up and into a world where only he and I existed.

* * *

A/N: So that was it. Sort of ended right there, didn't it? I tried to add more description in this to not make it so bland. After a while I got confused where to end the paragraphs. Please give constructive criticism, I need it!

~ Dawn Uzumaki ^_^


End file.
